The Halls of the Hallowed Dead are the only structure that still exists on the the surface of Shakazhan. It is an ancient place of burial for the warriors of the Timokuan people. Each warrior’s essence is preserve there for posterity, their voices recounting their accomplishments for anyone who will listen. Since it’s not integral to the functioning of the planet, Wil and his people haven’t fully explored it.

Wil has been to preoccupied with mending the Sentience’s networks to worry about the Halls, though he knows that the sentient robots have been repairing and restoring it. At the moment, it’s the only way in or out of the Sentience’s lair.

Muttering to himself, Wil walked down the long corridor from the Sentience’s lair to the Halls of the Hallowed Dead.

Wil felt compelled to deviate a little further to the west than usual and wandered to the very end of the branching hallway. His feet led him to a monument whose importance was overshadowed by other, more recent additions to the Halls. Long neglected, it stood on a wall by itself. Probably one of the original tombs placed here.

Wiping dust of ages off the plaque on the tomb, Wil deciphered a little of the legend carved there. He’d had been teaching himself the language, he christened Old Speak, compiling a database as he went. A word here and there stumped him, but he memorized the characters, intending to look them up later.

His left eye caught the hint of a bas relief, some sort of picture. He spit on his sleeve, using it to clean the plaque. Rubbing vigorously, he managed to wipe a six by six inch area relatively free of accumulated dust and grime of ages past.

Wil gasped. The area exposed showed a face—his face. There was no doubt in his mind that the visage depicted there, centuries old, was that of Wilhelm VanLipsig, The Lone Wolf. He saw the same firm jaw, the high cheek bones, chiseled features, it was all him. The most striking thing were the eyes. Crafted of onyx, they were black as night, glittering like a dozen stars.

Wil was unaware of the passage of time, having no clear idea how long he stood gazing at his own face, until his comlink startled him. Blinking, trying to focus on the here and now, he raised his hand in slow motion to answer, still looking at the portrait.

“Yeah?” His voice sounded far away, rasping, dry.

“Wil?” Matilda’s voice was tinged with worry. “You were supposed to be back half an hour ago. Where are you?”

“You need to come see something. Where are you?”

“I’m on Styx.” The worry grew in her voice. “Are you all right?”

“Fine, I’m fine.” He couldn’t seem to draw his eyes away from the portrait. “I’m in the Halls. I’ll wait here for you.”

“On my way.”

Wil knew Matilda had started to walk off the ship as soon as he answered her and would be nearly half way to him by now. A few moments later, he heard her running down the hall toward him. He stepped out of the alcove so she could see him.

Not all the new characters in The Maker are human, in fact, most of them are some sort of bipedal alien race. There are others, however, who are just as important, but aren’t remotely human. In fact, some of the best characters in the books are the sentient ships. We’ve already met Styx, Hammer, Anvil and Quick Silver. They are a family unit who have been remarkably helpful to the folk of Shakazhan.

Now, however, a galaxy wide call has gone out and the Timokuan people must respond. The ships are the ones who must carry them to Shakazhan. This scene takes place as the Timokuan prepare to depart. It is customary for the mated pairs to travel, leaving their children for who knows how long, because there isn’t any room on the ship for them. Reluctantly, Tianna and Lordvik must leave their family behind.

A gentle tingle started on their scalps, working down to their toes. The children giggled happily, holding onto their parents hands. Jessia clutched Acey’s hand in both of hers, not noticing that his fingers were going blue. Acey was too fascinated by the process to notice until they were aboard.

They found themselves in a large cargo hold with more of their people around them, equally benumbed. A strange voice made an announcement which they received in silence.

“Welcome good friends. We apologize for taking you so much by surprise, but it was unavoidable. Our attempts at communication were unproductive. We tried to warn you of our arrival. An anomaly of your planet made communication impossible until we were in your atmosphere.” There was a short pause and the voice continued.

“Please accept our hospitality. The Sentience has instructed us to transport you to Shakazhan. You’ll be taken to the quarters assigned to you. Your belongings have already been brought here and are waiting for you in your state rooms. As your children are such a vital part of you, we have invited them to join you, they’ll be well cared for. I am delighted to introduce myself, I am Bellerophon, your ship and home to you for the next few weeks. Welcome.”

As I’ve mentioned before, not every scene makes it to the final draft. The Maker was worse than some. Apparently, I had a lot to say in this book. A lot of it wasn’t necessary, so I made the tough choice to cut it out. One such scene follows.

Ben is trying to keep Wil occupied so he won’t dwell on something that’s happened. He decides the best way to distract him is to give him the workout to end all. After hitting the heavy bag, Ben asks the sentient ship, Hammer, for something special from his youth.

Ben picked up a whiplike weapon, weighing it, feeling it’s balance.

“I didn’t know you used these. Don’t see them often any more, they quit making them about thirty years ago.”

“Yeah, I got that about fifty-three years ago. I can’t remember what the damn thing is called.”

Ben eyed the weapon critically. “It’s got a lot of names, I always called it a snake-hammer, but it is officially known as a shnack-haueter.”

Wil’s frown turned to a smile of enlightenment. “Oh, yeah! I remember now. I got it in the Primos bazaar. This really gorgeous girl was selling them, so I bought a couple. Made a good excuse to talk to her. She was so hot, she made my skin sizzle.” He grinned happily as Ben handed it back to him. “Hey, you’re from around there, aren’t you, Ben?”

Ben’s nod was curt, his brow raised. His expression was unreadable, even to Wil. “I grew up around these. My mother’s family made them for centuries. They stopped when her father died. She sold them in the bazaar.” His statement hung in the air between them like an accusation.

He turned away from his son, hanging his head sadly. Ben clapped a work hardened hand on his shoulder that would have brought a normal man down.

“She couldn’t remember your name either. She just told me you had the most incredible eyes she’d ever seen, black as night and deeper than a well. That was how she described them. One look and she fell into those eyes. She said I looked a lot like you.” He pretended to be offended. “God, what an insult!”

Wil examined at him, unsure of how to respond. Ben’s mother had been dead several years, he knew and never married.

“Was she happy?”

“Very happy. I had a great childhood and a wonderful family. Where I came from, it wasn’t a big deal for a woman to have children by different men and never marry. I didn’t grow up like Riley.”

“Ben,” Wil hesitated, not knowing how to continue. “What was her name?” It was a plaintive request, odd coming from Wil, but it was important to him.

Lone Wolf is book 1 in my sci-fi series. Set in the year 3032, mankind has ventured into space and made a home. Three entities control the galaxy: The Navigation Guild, The Mining Guild and The Galactic Marines. Matilda Dulac is a member of the Mining Guild. Her ship, stationed in deep space, has an emergency and Wil VanLipsig responds. Unfortunately, there’s trouble between Wil and the ship’s captain, Marc. They fight and Matilda is forced to break it up by threatening to shoot one, or the other, or both.

“Could you maybe?” Wil gestured to the point of her weapon, motioning down.

Lowering the barrel, she kept her eyes on him. “Colonel VanLipsig, I’m required to quote you Guild Regulation 516 A, which states….”

“I know what the hell it states, Commander. Let’s pretend you quoted to me about unprovoked attacks on a fellow Guild member. Only he started it and I’m not Guild. I just transport stuff.”

The Fellician warriors, nicknamed The Cats – because they are giant, sentient felines– are some of my favorite characters. There are five of them and they have known Wil for many years. He’s often worked with them and enjoys their outrageous conversation and uninhibited actions. He, Marc and Matilda are invited to dinner with them at a quiet and subdued restaurant – or it is until The Cats show up. Caprilla is the leader of The Cats. Escascia, Cavitus, Errollic and Ariella all work for him.

Caprilla looked into Matilda’s face with his clear, blue eyes. “Friend Wil, this is an amazing lady you have here. Were I an evil fellow, I’d fight you for her.” He purred over the last word, his tongue trilling seductively.

“Aw, hell, Cap. It’s not polite to kill your friend before dinner. I guess you’ll just have to leave her with me for now.” He chuckled, taking her by the hand. “Don’t mind him, Romance, he’s always been a joker.”

Caprilla purred deep in his throat, his voice rumbling like thunder. “I never kid about anything, Captain Romance. I’ve no sense of humor.”

The restaurant was a little crowded, but they were able to get a table on the deck overlooking the water. Matilda tried not to stare at the Fellicians, but they fascinated her. She had seen non-human races before, but she had never met these amazingly beautiful cat people. She was surprised to find that many of their race were mercenaries.

“We are naturally warriors, but too long we fought one another. We were dying off, so our elders put us into mercenary service. We fight side by side with our females.” Cavitus bared his teeth at Escascia. “They give us much fight off the battlefield too. Friend Marc, do your females fight when you mate?”

Marc burst into loud laughter, spewing his wine on the table. Giggling, he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “Well, some of them do, Cavitus. Others make demands about what they want us to do and we comply or we might not get any.”

A few minutes later, their food arrived. Sensing that raw meat would be little appreciated by some of their table mates, the Fellicians ordered their steaks rare. Wil’s was almost as bloody. Only Matilda and Marc had their meat brown all the way through.

Wil looked at Marc oddly. “Since when do you eat your meat like that? I’ve seen people beg you to hit it again before it moos.”

Marc cleared his throat, scratched his beard and rubbed his nose before answering. “Well, after being on the station with Matilda, I kind of got used to it.”

Caprilla closely scrutinized Marc and Matilda for a moment. “She is your woman, Friend Marc? I thought she belonged to Friend Wil.”

Marc looked extremely embarrassed. “Well, she and I, uh, worked together before she met Wil.” He mumbled.

The huge black cat remained skeptical. “So, she was your woman and you gave her to him? That is a very kind thing to do, Friend Marc. If you require a female, I’m sure Ariella or Escascia would happily comply. I believe the genitalia are compatible.”

Matilda had never seen Marc blush. He bowed politely to the ladies.

“I appreciate the offer, good friends, but I assure you there’s no need.”

Caprilla was about to continue but hesitated, clearly at a loss as to how to proceed.

“Marc is interested in Commander Rebeckah Grammery,” Matilda interjected, figuring it was her turn to do the embarrassing.

Caprilla pricked up his ears, eyeing Marc speculatively. “That woman on the bridge with you? Oh, an excellent choice, Friend Marc. She is very pretty. I think the expression you’d employ to describe such a woman is smoking hot?”

“Cap,” Wil came to Marc’s rescue. “Why don’t you bring us up to date on what you’ve been doing for the last sixty years.”

Caprilla chuckled, taking the lead that was given. “That would take much more time than we have. But I’ll say that we have fought bravely and won many battles. I’ve heard some of what Marc has done over the years. What have you done to keep busy?”

Wil didn’t answer right away, gathering his thoughts. He had a rare moment where memories flooded over him, the blood, gore and violence would have made most other men ill.

I introduce a couple of new characters in The Kahlea, one of these is Master Yktobo. He is the Master of the Medallion, the chain of office which Mai wears around her neck. He abides there, for one can’t quite call it living, when he’s not actually alive. It is his resting place, where his consciousness abides. Mai goes to him for answers, but must do combat with him, in order to get her answers. Lord Yktobo is not only the Master of the Medallion—he is Kahlea.

Bellowing his fury, Yktobo rushed Mai, attempting to beat her with his tentacles. Mai reacted without thinking, leaping aside, doing a handless cartwheel, landing in her fighting stance, ready for his attack. Spinning angrily, Yktobo rushed blindly toward her, too furious to pay close attention. Her left hand reached out, grabbing a handful of his flailing tentacles. She brought her right in high and fast, slapping him in the face.

Surprised, Yktobo ceased his attack. “What was that?”

“It’s called a slap, you old fool,” Itza countered happily.

“I know what it is, woman, but a slap on the cheek won’t kill a Kahlea.”

I’ve written short stories to accompany my Lone Wolf series, but realized a few years ago, that I needed some prequels to the series. I wrote my first one, The Wall of Time, as my first NaNoWriMo novel in 2007. This novel, Solaris is actually going to be a combination of two novels I’ve started, plus a short piece I wrote for my Fun in Writing group.

There are times when I introduce characters and am totally surprised by them. I admit, this book has already surprised me several times, not only with this scene, but others where Wil reveals a depth of emotions he’s never shown before. Of course, he’s never been in this situation before, and it shakes him to his core. Deciding that he must do something to exact retribution for the women and children who died on Solaris, Wil goes to see an old acquaintance.

The Bloody Orchid specialized in the most brutal urges of sentient beings everywhere. There were other bondage bordellos, but this was the only one with class. Built along the lines of a Roman temple, one could find any sort of perverted need catered too—at an obscenely high price. Wil, who hated the smell and feel of this place, shivered as he walked between the marble pillars. The heavy iron doors swung open and a giant of a man stood there. He was clad only in a loin cloth made from the skins of sentient beings. Wil didn’t examine it too closely, its grim patchwork too distracting.

The gigantic doorman leered at him. “Welcome to the Bloody Orchid, Human. What can we do for you, or to you, this evening?” His voice was ridiculously high and effete, incongruous to his size and bulk.

“I’m here to speak to Santa,” Wil said, smiling.

“Santa doesn’t speak to anyone. Go away.”

“Santa will speak to me.”

“Don’t make me hurt you, Human.”

Wil tilted his head to one side, examining the huge doorman with a leer of his own. “Get Santa for me, or we shall see who hurts whom.”

A short, ugly woman with three breasts, came out from behind the counter. She halted in front of Wil, glaring up at him. “You can’t come in here and threaten people, Human. Not for free, that will cost you.

“I threaten no one, Grandmother,” he stated in an insulting tone, the fact the woman was probably forty years younger than he notwithstanding.

Her glare narrowed. “Throw him out, TinTon.”

“Yes, Moema.” He stepped forward, head and shoulders lowered to charge.

“I came to talk to Santa. I asked politely. He made threats, not me. Shall I leave here and tell everyone in the city that Moema of the Bloody Orchid insults customers and turns them away dissatisfied? Trust me when I tell you, I can ruin your reputation in less than a day—after I put your dog down.”

TinTon looked nervous, Moema glared.

“Why do you want Santa?”

“None of your business. I promise, Santa will be very unhappy if you damage me.”

Moema’s fingers flickered. TinTon charged. Wil stepped out of his way, hitting him in the back of the knee with his elbow. The giant crumpled, whimpering.

“He broked my leg, Moema!”

Wil shrugged, stepping out of reach of the big man. He might be down, but he still had the longest arms Wil had seen on a near human. “Santa. Please.”

Moema looked from him to the crumpled form of her guard, and stalked to the desk. “Santa, you have a visitor,” she said sharply into the comunit.

“I don’t see visitors,” came the reply.

“Not even old friends?” Wil said when Moema moved to disconnect.

There was a disturbance upstairs. A door slammed back, hitting the wall. Heavy treads landed on the balcony above, echoing in the great hall. A tall, stately figure appeared hurriedly at the top of the grand stair. Dressed in shimmering red, the color of arterial blood (on second thought, it was blood on a gown) stood Santa. She looked much the same as she had when Wil saw her thirty years ago. Her hair was black, awash with the same blood that soaked her clothing. She wore thirteen inch steel heels that ended in spikes. Her legs were long, shapely and covered in dark red scales. Wil knew those same scales covered most of her body, except for her chest and face, which she kept carefully de-scaled. A pointed tail twitched behind her with what looked like a human eye on the tip.

Shaking blood from her hands, she greeted Wil with a hug and kiss. Fortunately, the blood didn’t come off on him, for which he was grateful. Apparently, it was for show, after all. The eye looked real and he wasn’t terribly surprised, or pleased, when Santa popped it in her mouth. She always said that she liked blue ones best. Wil didn’t look at it closely enough to see the color.

“I’m working, Lone Wolf. What is so important that you must interrupt the show?”

“I apologize, my dear, but there’s been a dust up at the Mining Guild. Perhaps you heard about it.”

Santa frowned, her beautiful, but terrifying face made more so by her expression. TinTon whimpered and drew away from her.

“I heard. I had hoped it was a rumor.”

“It wasn’t. Forty-one people, all women and children, died because of their greed.”

“Do you have names? Of course you do, or you wouldn’t be here. Come up to my room.”

Wil balked slightly. Santa laughed.

“Not the showroom, darling. My quarters. Nothing more disturbing than a shrunken head, I promise. Laughing, she led the way.

Wil followed, mindful of her tail. It had a temper and had smacked him more than once in the past. He’d come to be on friendlier terms with it the last time they met, but he wasn’t sure it was happy to be interrupted during a show. Santa’s tail was a mean bitch.

The room she led him to was strangely feminine and completely opposite her in every way. Frilly and pink, it reminded Wil of a little girl’s quarters, not that of one of the most vicious torturers in the galaxy. Santa had worked with him for a time, extracting secrets from their targets. She was retired now, putting on torture shows here at the Bloody Orchid.

“Drink?”

“Thanks, no. I’m working.”

She made a face, her black lips pulling back to reveal extremely sharp, long fangs—not an affectation, completely real. “You only came to see me on a job? I think my feelings should be hurt.”

“Be fair, Santa. Last time I saw you, your tail tried to skewer me and you threatened to bite my head off.”

“I was expecting,” she replied, pouring dark liquid into a glass. It bubbled and fizzled, smoking slightly.

Wil’s eyes narrowed. “A—baby?”

She waved it away. “We involuntarily spawn every ten years. I ate it. Nasty little bugger. What do you need from me?”

“The names I give you, they come with a price.”

“Yours or mine?”

“You have the entertainment value. I need whatever information you extract. Everything, even the tiniest detail. The usual contract, with the additional stipulation that it must be within the next six weeks and no one can trace this back to you or me.”

“That’s easy, darling. Six weeks isn’t long.”

“I’ve never known you to take more than three days to get what you wanted.”

“True. When I’m done, what then?”

“You can pleasure yourself as you like. Is that payment enough?”

“Depends on my targets.”

He told her. Santa’s eyes widened. “Council? Hmm. They drove my people from their home, built their wretched base upon it and banished us to the Cold Netherworlds. Of course, that was a thousand years ago…. Why them? Why now?”

“Because they’ve hurt some friends of mine and they are responsible for killing my goddaughter—and my—daughter.” He fought tears, but he couldn’t stop them. “You know me. I’m not the stick around fatherly type, but she and her mother both died. My goddaughter, her sister and mother died. My friends lost their families for another man’s greed.”

“And you lost something that you loved.” Santa wiped his tears with her long fingers. The wicked black nails rasped over his beard, tenderly caressing. “I have known you forever, Lone Wolf, yet I have never seen you cry. I will do this for you, not because of the pleasure it will give me, nor because of the information you desire, but because their actions put a hole in your soul. Right here.” She touched his chest, just above his heart. “It’s deep and black. They have killed a part of you. For that, they will suffer.” She kissed him tenderly, listening as he told her the names and locations of her victims.

I thought I had posted these links already, but I can’t find them, so I’m assuming I didn’t. If I did, well, here they are again. A Little White Lie is a Lone Wolf Tale, set in the distant future. Lone Wolf begins in the year 3032, when Wil is a old man, though he doesn’t look it. This story takes place about 40 years earlier.

I hope that you enjoyed reading A Little White Lie. I have had a good time exploring Wil’s character in several of my short stories. I have also delved into Matilda’s background. One of the stories about her is available for free download on Smashwords, Gone But Not Forgotten explores Matilda’s life when she’s a teenager growing up on Saltulle. I invite you to read it, some of it might surprise you.

I have so many stories I want to share with you, but I think the one I will present next will be from a different part of the universe. I introduced you to a new character in The Maker, Sta Hyt Mai. I want to go even further back and present a story I’ve never shared before. It’s a story, not of Mai, but of her ancestor, Itza. It is this character who eventually becomes the First Champion of Bankaywan. I haven’t written the tale of how that came about. Eventually, I will explore that. Starting next week, I will offer the first episode of Itza’s story. Please join me for And Itza Danced.

Wil determines that Rashima isn’t what she seems, but she still manages to get her hooks into him. She very nearly convinced him to let her go.

Wil woke feeling as if he’d been hit by a tank. His mouth was dry, his eyes hurt and his head felt swollen. The ringing in his ears had been replaced by a pounding like a pile driver.

As soon as he struggled to sit up, Penny was beside him, giving him a supporting hand. Her eyes held concern, not just on a professional level. She flung herself at his chest, grabbing him tightly as if her life depended upon this one embrace. Wil lost his balance, collapsing on the bed once more.

“Penny,” he said thickly. “What?”

“Oh, Wil, I was so worried! Don’t ever do that again!”

“Whadidido?” He could barely enunciate.

“That woman.”

“Rashima?” His head was clearing. “What about her, where is she?” He felt a burning in his loins, uncomfortable and evocative.

“She’s dead.”

He sat up, pushing her roughly aside. “What? Who?” His movements were erratic, dangerous, as he swung his arms around wildly.

“She was shot, Wil.”

There was a long pause as Wil worked through this information. “Dead.” His voice sounded flat and emotionless.

“Yes. Wil, she was a siren.”

“Whazzat?” Blinking fast, he tried again to clear his wooly head.

The name conjured up an image, a definition began to take form in his mind. Smacking dry lips, he shook his head, trying to clear his eyes, but only made himself dizzier.

“Fuck me,” he groaned as he lay back down.

A glass pressed against his lips. He drank automatically, spilling a good bit on the bed. The pounding faded to a buzz like barber’s clippers. He his mind was clearing gradually.

“Penny, start over, all I remember is this – Oh God! This woman, she was so beautiful, exotic.” He felt a burning sensation in his loins again. “Ow! Why do I hurt?”

“Wil, look at me.”

He focused on her face with difficulty. “Penny?”

“Wil, if you don’t focus for me, I’m going to hit you.”

He blinked slowly, tried to clear his head again and failed. “Feel like shit,” he mumbled. “There was this girl.” He mused again, rolling over, hoping to sleep and dream of the woman in white.

Smack! A sharp slap clipped him on the left cheek, snapping his head sideways. He caught her hand before she could get him with the back swing.

“What the hell was that for? Penny?”

She grinned at him, kissing his smarting cheek. “You’re back! Oh, thank God! What do you remember?”

“Lots of explosions, Aurialonus, and some woman. There was something about her.” His eyes glazed over again and Penny slapped him sharply once more. “Will you please stop doing that?”

“Not until you snap out of this!” She popped him again, but less hard. “She was a siren, Wil. Do you know what that is?”

“One of those women, Greek mythology, sang and lured sailors to their deaths?”

“Something like that, only this one is a telepath who lures men to her, controlling them, making them her tools. I thought she had you for awhile.” Her voice drifted off. “She’s been the problem, all along. She was sent to kill us.”

“But Emory?”

“In all these other operations, she’s turned the men against one another. Only Emory kept his head.”

“Why? What makes him special?”

“No chip.”

His puzzled look remained frozen as she touched his temple and he remembered. The day they had been brought to the lab for the first procedures, there had been a medical technician with a special instrument.

“They put a chip in your head, so a signal can be sent out, killing you instantly.” They had made it sound like it was for protection, his as well as others. Why had he forgotten?

“He hasn’t any chip.”

“But all us super soldiers got that, didn’t we?”

“I’m not exactly like one of you,” Emory said, sidling into the room. Penny nodded at him as he sat on a chair near the bed. “I’m a special case.”

“Why?” Wil found it almost infuriating that this little, weasely man was special, somehow superior to him.

“I’m the chaff,” he said softly, his face clouding.

“He doesn’t know, Randy,” Penny said gently, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“They did some more experiments, stuff you guys don’t know about. When they had you under, they took samples of sperm and ova.”

A glance up at Penny got an encouraging nod.

“I’m the by product of one of their in vitro experiments. They wanted to make super soldiers from scratch. I was a failed experiment. I’m what’s left when super heroes mate!”

He was angry, hurt. A life of being shoved aside and told he wasn’t good enough had left him bitter.

“But it’s saved your life, Randy.” Penny interrupted him before he got too carried away. “That’s why he’s survived all these missions and everyone else died. She couldn’t control him. But he couldn’t hurt her until now.”

“Why not?”

“There was a program, subliminal, running through her. As long as she was conscious, it made it impossible for him to protect us. But Ishanti knocked her out as they were getting in the car. Once she was unconscious, Emory could act. I about gave him a black eye though, until he explained.

Emory chuckled quietly, relaxing for the first time since Wil had met him. “I had to talk faster than I ever have in my life. Thought I was going to lose an eyeball or something.”

“Well, a ball of some kind, but I doubt it would have been your eye.” Wil looked up at Penny, his old smile back on his face. “Mind explaining that whole knee in the groin?”

“I had to get your attention, it seemed the best way.”

“Kind of harsh!”

“It worked, didn’t it?” Her tone softened, her eyes held his for a long moment.

Clearing his throat, Emory looked embarrassed and excused himself.

“Hey,” Wil called after him. “Thank you. I owe you my life, kid.”

Emory turned around and faced him, a soft smile playing at his lips. “And I owe mine to you.” In a rush he was gone.

Wil watched after him in puzzled silence, wondering what on earth he meant.

“Greyling has some explaining to do,” he sighed as he kissed Penny deeply, inhaling the fresh, clean smell of her hair and the spicy scent of her cologne.

“Don’t be hard on her,” Penny said, unbuttoning his shirt as she pushed him on the bed. “She tried to protect us.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he kissed her. “But right now, I don’t want to talk.”

“Neither do I.”

“You know, Penny, I could fall hard for a girl like you.”

“Good.” She smiled, kissing him passionately as she shoved him down on the bed.